Cupid and my Campaspe playdAt cards for kisses: Cupid paid.He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,His mothers doves, and team of sparrows:Loses them too. Then down he throwsThe coral of his lip, the roseGrowing on s cheek (but none knows how);With these, the crystal of his brow,And then the dimple on his chin:All these did my Campaspe win.At last he set her both his eyes: She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?